intezaam khuda ki liye - in search of god

beneath tin sheds i stand
reading literature about the beauty of trees
clouds roll by when my feet get stuck to the ground

a blockage

orange skies slash buildings
to softly sing
of birdsong at day-break
of warmth in the smell of coffee
in the little bits of nothingness

if you haven't noticed already
it sings of things to come
things that are not
yet here

i hold your hand and stand with you here
did you know your eyes glow
like golden pools of honey in sunlight?

like Kahlil's lutes you too
have been carved out of wood,
through pain and suffering, scorched to bring tone,
to let the strings of your life reverberate
the words of god as the preacher
yells at the skies. i too, am in wait.

a primordial, embryonic howl
engulfs you from within

tell me, when do we finally achieve utopia?
if ever, what must we do,
to see the true face of the Poetic Genius?
what mirrors shall
we hold to beg for an answer?

my orange skies turned to red now.
might be a stop light. do not wait for it.

it sings of daylight and birdsong
thinks itself to be a monster
searching for answers to questions
we don't know how to ask
i don't expect it to come
it is not there
solace remains one of the greatest gifts,
yet it is hollow
crafted, not born of truth

tell me, do you like the sky?
when it flows out in colours
when it's dark outside and you see a patch of clear sky
shining bright
feels like the embodiment of hope

it promises that you're special
then holds up a sitar
each note is a feeling
Nada Brahma
the sound is God
come to me, my child,
you are mine.
devotion will come to you.
when the world lends itself to you
treats you the way you treated itself
think. who are you?

you could run away
live your life alone
chase the sunlight through the clouds
but our skies are dark now
and the wind howls
the songs of remembrance still ring out loud

exhale.
you'll find him one day